This piece is more than just an artwork. I lost count how many months I have been working on it, I believe it was sometime around May, that I just started this piece, and now in November, its finally done. but it was a struggle, and honestly thats okay.
I struggled, I really struggled, I stopped working for days, weeks at a time. refusing to start a new piece. I kept it on the aisle, refusing to remove it. It wasn’t going anyway. My usually self would have hidden the piece half finished waiting to be recycled. This time however I refused, breaking old habits is very hard. I wanted to face my self. That sometimes its okay, not to be okay.
This is what this painting means to me, I wasn’t okay, I don’t know why. I was just not okay. Family and friends were all good. Work was progressing, usual stress nothing out of the ordinary. But I just wasn’t okay. I couldn’t paint. I couldn’t make something, I guess it was some sort of an artist’s block. I am not sure. I spent hours just staring at this canvas. It didn’t come naturally to me as it usually did. I was facing a wall I never knew existed.
I am not sure why the wall was there, maybe subconsciously I wasn’t okay and this was my method of coping. Which is horrible, because it only made things worse. I felt useless as an artist. I wasn’t an artist. I couldn’t paint something so simple. I felt broken. That may by an exaggeration, lets not take it literally, but thats what it felt like. Broken.
During this time I was participating in Ink October, I could draw or sketch. But I couldn’t paint. So I felt broken, like a part of my body just stopped functioning or my brain just couldn’t comprehend. At moments I would just get angry, and yell at the canvas, that for obvious reasons didn’t solve anything but it made me feel better, momentarily at least.
I cried, yes, I did, because I booked a time to paint, got everything ready, then for 3 hours staring into the painting, the paints drying out on the palette. I did nothing. I packed everything up, ‘I hate this’ and I cried. Might seem utterly and completely foolish or silly. But It was me accepting momentary defeat.
I persevered though. Because I finished the piece. I would like to say I am over joyed and screaming from the roof tops, but no I am just content. I am sure there is something that I could have done better, but right now. Its good. and I am good.
I am not sure if over came my block or If I am better. I honestly don’t know. Because I don’t know what caused it. All I do know is that I didn’t give up. I fought to break my old habits and faced myself without inspiration or bursts of creativity. I fought myself through it, by realizing that sometimes you are not okay, for no reason at all, and thats Okay. Just keep fighting.
Below are my trials